Still and Forever
by MorbidTruth
Summary: Fairy Tales don't always end with happily ever after, Ginny knows this and unfortunately, she accepts it. You can never depend on anyone else. She doesn't care anymore. ONE-SHOT,DG, R for angst


**A/N: This makes no sense to you I'm sure, but I understand perfectly. Haha, yep. I hope you like it very much!! Maybe I'll do a sequel, if it strikes my fancy. I hope you'll forgive me for this story, I know it's odd and not right in some ways, but that's me for you.**

****

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and that stuff. You know the gist.**

**_Still and Forever_**

People say love does not come at the age of thirteen, but how do they know? Why do "elders" always think they know everything? Yes, they may know why the Earth spins, or even how to make a straight line without any help, but no one, not even Father Time, knows what age "love" can occur. Love is something that comes once in a million years, throughout many lifetimes. There may be one person for another, a soul mate, but it is a miracle to find him or her. So, why do these "geniuses" think they know when love happens? How, exactly, do they know the age of love. Is it sixteen, no much too young? Is it eighteen, when you're an adult? No, still too young. So, is it twenty-one? No, still too young. Then when?

Another problem I see is this: no one can depend on anyone else. I can depend on no one else to love me. Parents? No, that has been proven before as well as men, also proven; so maybe strangers will care? Never, they do not know you; do not want to know you, why should they care? The world is full of people who know nothing of the word compassion.

Falling in love at thirteen is not easy. No matter how mature she may seem, it will never be easy. The older people will _always_ say that it is not possible for her to fall in love, not enough life experience. But the life I've led is full of experience. Even at the age of thirteen, I knew too much of life, tasted too many fruits, sweet and sour.

So, in August, at the age of thirteen, it is no surprise that I was ready to give up, to end it all as they might say. To put it bluntly, I wanted to die. Although I survived somehow, I still know the feeling of death breathing down my neck.

I'd watched him throughout my second year, noticing every little thing he did. Every sneer, comment, compliment, or, as was his usual, insult. He threw disgusting insults at my friends and brothers' everyday if not every hour. I had been born and brought up, hating him. I can see exactly why I hated him too. I think, even if I had been raised loving him and adoring him, I would have started hating at some point, if only for a second.

In my third year, I watched as Harry, Ron, and Hermione learned of Sirius, Harry's godfather. The truth about him, that he did not murder anyone. But as I may have watched them closely, trying to get into the "Trio" I watched him ever closer. Listening for anything and everything he said. I might be the only person in school, other than him of course, that knows that he absolutely hates Pansy. He loathes her, wants to kill her. He hates her even more than Harry. We talked briefly, but those were insults, of course.

Nothing civil in what we said to each other until I was in my fifth year, he in is his sixth.

I remember perfectly, the wind blowing my hair over my shoulders, as I stood in the moonlight on the highest of the Astronomy Towers, ready to jump. The feeling that had started in third year grew and became overwhelming in fifth. I was leaning far over the edge; ready to fall when a voice crept out from the shadows.

"Don't." I remember the voice so well. The pleading note to it.

"Why?" I asked, not caring who was speaking to me. He moved from the shadows, showing me his identity. His blond hair hung in his steel gray eyes, lean frame against the small stonewall. He looked eerie. His eyes had tears in them, watching me.

"You are so fragile. A young, innocent, _light sided_ girl should not want to die." He looked at me with the cold expression, perfect except for the tears ready to spill.

"You know nothing of me. Tom Riddle left in me a darkness that not even you could fathom." I replied, my voice coming from my mouth before I could think the words through.

"Darkness is something you, my dearest, will never know. Let us hope you will not, at least." He said, bowing his head.

Those were the only words we exchanged. He took my hand and led me away, toward Gryffindor Tower. We spoke for the second time, in a civil way, on the battlefield.

"Ginny get down!" Harry shouted at me from behind. I ducked as a jet of green flew past me, blowing my hair about. I turned around at Harry and thanked him quickly before I moved through the bodies and battles, looking for some one to take down. Suddenly, I saw him, standing amid blood and sweat and tears, watching me with wide, fearful eyes. He glanced to his right and I followed his gaze. There stood the one man I had known, trusted, and was betrayed by, for a whole year. Tom looked at him with a small eyebrow raised. He lifted his wand and flung a curse at me. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it missed me as I ducked again. His eyes got wider and he stepped towards me as Tom looked away.

"Sorry about the curse." His voice was small and quiet, like nothing I'd ever heard before. I nodded and started to walk away.

"I love you." His voice rang out. I turned around swiftly. His eyes were filled with tears again and I was shocked.

"I love you too." I replied. He didn't move, just watched as I walked away.

I wish I could say that after the battle, we married had ten kids and lived happily ever after. But not all fairy tales end that way. He survived. Now, I hear, he's married to a nice French girl and has a baby on the way. We haven't spoken since that day on the battlefield, but I still love him.

I survived too, as you can see. But I must say, only part of me is still alive. I died that day on the field as soon as I took the steps away from him. I could have run to his arms and told him to take me away. But I was too bloody busy; fighting for something I knew almost nothing about. I know now what I've lost and really, I don't care anymore.

No one can depend on anyone but themselves. I know this better than anything I've ever learned. Yet sometimes I still wonder if maybe he thinks of me too.

Wherever you are Draco, I love you, still and forever.

**A/N: Did you like it? Hate it? Die laughing maybe? I dunno. Just let me know!!! And read my other stories please. Flames may be ignored, I haven't decided yet.**


End file.
